


all at a rush

by anthean



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Thrawn - Timothy Zahn
Genre: Alien Biology, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Hate Sex, M/M, Post-Coital Cuddling, Semi-Public Sex, Set Phasers to Maximum Pettiness, they're in love they're so in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 13:03:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14545341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthean/pseuds/anthean
Summary: Bonding with your boyfriend by telling him the story of the time you had sex with a subordinate: great idea or greatest idea?





	all at a rush

**Author's Note:**

> Don't worry, Thrawn/Eli is endgame, Eli/Gimm is just a detour along the way.
> 
> Thanks to tristesses and 13th_blackbird for enabling/encouragement!

“I slept with Gimm, you know,” Eli says, and then winces internally. He’s lying half propped on a pillow, covers kicked down to the end of the bed. Thrawn is wrapped around him like a vine, his face pressed against Eli’s ribs as he idly strokes Eli’s torso. They’re naked, not yet cooled enough from their exertions to pull the blankets back up, and Eli has been admiring the muscles of Thrawn’s legs where they’re tangled with Eli’s own. This was probably not the best moment to bring up a previous…well, call it a _liaison_ , because _fuck-up_ is a little harsh.

Thrawn, though, doesn’t seem upset. “Did you?” he asks, and Eli feels a silent laugh against his side, warm and light.

“You didn’t guess?”

Thrawn pinches Eli’s hipbone. “I am not actually omniscient,” he says dryly.

“—all appearances to the contrary—”

“Indeed. I did not guess, but neither am I surprised. When did it happen?” Thrawn asks.

“Just after my promotion, but before we left for the _Chimaera_. He, uh, found me in the officer’s lounge, things proceeded from there.” Eli blushes, feels heat spread from his cheeks down his neck and chest and imagines how the glow must look in Thrawn’s infrared vision.

As if he knows what Eli’s thinking, Thrawn passes a hand over Eli’s chest, pausing to tweak a nipple. His mouth twitches when Eli jumps. “So,” Thrawn says. “You fucked a subordinate.”

Eli grabs a handful of Thrawn’s hair and tilts his head up so those red, red eyes are looking straight into his own. “That better not bother you, Admiral,” he says, and gives Thrawn’s hair a sharp tug.

Taking the hint, Thrawn pulls himself up Eli’s body and tucks his face into Eli’s neck, mouthing at the tender skin like—well, like a large blue alien warlord who got irrepressibly cuddly post-orgasm. It had something to do with Chiss endorphins; Thrawn had explained it, but he’d had three fingers up Eli’s ass at the time, so Eli really couldn’t be blamed for forgetting.

If Eli lets him, he’ll be at this for hours. “Stop _chewing_ on me,” Eli says, slapping the small of Thrawn’s back.

“No,” Thrawn says. He bites at Eli’s earlobe, then licks along the edge. “Did he call you _sir_?” Thrawn breathes, and Eli shivers, tightening his fist in Thrawn’s hair. “Did you put him on his knees?”

“Yeah,” Eli says, and pulls Thrawn’s face up to kiss him. The kiss is messy and soft and lasts a long time, and Eli finds himself making small contented noises into Thrawn’s mouth. He releases his fist to mess up Thrawn’s hair and brings his other hand to rest at Thrawn’s throat, the pulse strong and slow beneath his fingertips. “Yeah, I did,” he says when he finally pulls away, and the memory of Gimm kneeling before him, his mouth tight with anger and his eyes full of hunger as he fumbled at Eli’s uniform trousers, sets a smoldering heat throbbing in his belly.

From the tilt of Thrawn’s head, the tiny contractions of the muscles around his eyes, he’s thinking something similar. He cups Eli’s cheek, then rolls so that their positions are reversed, with Eli sprawled atop him. “Tell me,” Thrawn says, his voice low and rough, vibrating up through Eli’s chest.

“Are you—” Eli begins, and then stops himself. Of course Thrawn is sure. When Thrawn asks for something, he wants it. If what he wants right now is to hear the story of how Eli got a little drunk on Scyrran brandy and high spirits and fucked a subordinate in a service corridor, then Eli will give it to him.

“Okay,” he says. “This is what happened."

* * *

 

“Ensign Vanto,” Eli heard behind him, and smiled in anticipation. “I don’t think you’re allowed in the officers’ lounge.”

Eli set his drink down on the table and schooled his face before turning. “I don’t think you’re allowed in the officers’ lounge, _sir_ ,” he said.

Gimm’s eyes widened as he took in Eli’s new rank plaque, and he shifted his weight as though he wanted to step back. Had he really not heard? Eli supposed it was possible: he didn’t think Gimm was too interested in anything besides himself and his upper class friends. It was completely possible that the promotions of an Unknown Regions alien and a Wild Space hick wouldn’t register as worthy of attention.

And it made Eli’s ambush in the officers’ lounge that much more satisfying.

“Well?” Eli asked.

It was hard to tell in the low light of the lounge, but Eli thought he could see an angry flush creep over Gimm’s cheeks. “I don’t think you’re allowed in the officers’ lounge, _sir_ ,” Gimm said. His tone would have been grounds for an insubordination charge in any other context, but Eli was feeling generous.

“Better,” Eli said. “Will you join me? Have a drink?” he continued, solely because he knew it would infuriate Gimm further. Sure enough, Gimm’s teeth clenched, and Eli was sure he would storm out.

Instead, Gimm brushed past him, grabbed a chair from a nearby table, and sat down.

“Can’t refuse an invitation from a superior officer,” Gimm said, sarcasm coloring his voice. He reached across the table and picked up Eli’s glass, took a sip just large enough to wet his lips. Sorry though Eli was to admit it, he was an attractive sight. “Scyrran brandy, nice,” Gimm said, and took a longer sip before setting the glass down between them. “Nicer than I would have expected from you, honestly, but I guess you’d have to pick up a few things on alien babysitting duty.”

“You’re talking about the captain of the _ISD Chimaera_. Show some respect,” Eli said.

“I could say the same about you,” Gimm said. His fingers lingered on the glass of brandy, damp with condensation. “Where’s your respect for yourself? How does it feel, knowing that as long as you’re associated with him, any promotion you receive will be on his merits, not your own? There’s probably still time for you to make a half-decent career for yourself if you just got out from under him.”

So this was the game, Eli thought, and almost laughed at how trivial it was. Gimm must have realized he couldn’t touch Thrawn, whose meteoric rise through the ranks pointed to powerful allies in Coruscant. And Gimm would know from experience that those political connections were backed up by true military genius. No, it would be difficult for Gimm to move against Thrawn, even with his own familial connections to draw on. And that probably frustrated Gimm, so used to having power at his fingertips.

Eli, though…

Eli might look like a tempting target if your alternative was Thrawn.

But as long as Eli was linked to Thrawn, he was protected too, especially now that the blocks to his promotion had been removed. Gimm wasn’t subtle or imaginative: the physical attack on Thrawn at the Imperial Academy had been straightforward. And although Gimm hadn’t masterminded the attack, Eli doubted that starfighter training would have taught him to come at a problem sideways. So all he could do to Eli was needle, with uncreative insults and obvious sexual innuendo. Well, Eli could needle right back.

 “Krayt spit,” Eli said, and grinned outright at the faint look of revulsion that passed over Gimm’s face. Just for that, he let his accent thicken a little: petty, but Gimm had started it. “As I told you before, I’m in service to the best commodore—” with the faintest emphasis on Thrawn’s rank “—in the Imperial Navy. You might not care who pulls your strings, but I’ve found it pays to be a little more discriminating.”  He pulled the glass out from under Gimm’s hand and drained the last few drops, tipping his head back and enjoying the slide of the brandy down his throat.

“Believe me, _sir_ ,” Gimm said, and his tone was flippant but there was something hungry in his eyes at the honorific. Eli thought he knew what that might be.  “I always know who pulls my strings.” His lips were still wet from the brandy, and he drew his thumb across them, picking up the moisture. “As a matter of fact,” he continued, “you can keep your alien commodore. I got a message from my family on Coruscant a few hours ago. Apparently, there’s a TIE squadron attached to the _ISD Vigilance_ that’s looking for a senior lieutenant, and my name’s at the top of the list. My mother said I can expect the reassignment to go through in a few days, and then there’s nowhere to go but up. That’s the way to do it, Vanto. Rank is only impressive if you get there on your own merits.”

He probably didn’t even notice the irony, Eli thought. Sure enough, Gimm was sitting back in his chair, looking like he expected Eli to be impressed. “Lucky you,” Eli said finally, and just barely managed to keep the disdain out of his tone. The annoying thing was, arrogance was a good look on Gimm: cheeks flushed, body loose and open, red mouth curved in a self-satisfied smile.

Stars, Eli wanted that body pinned underneath him, wanted to see that mouth begging for his cock.

“Lucky me,” Gimm agreed, and his smile got wider. He dropped his eyes and gave Eli an obvious once-over, lingering on Eli’s mouth. “You want to get out of here?” he asked. “Or has, ah, _Commodore Thrawn_ got you on a short leash?”

It was a terrible decision, Eli knew. It was a terrible decision, one that violated explicit Imperial policy as well as the ethics of command, and he was going to do it anyway.

“No leash,” Eli said, and shoved his chair back from the table. “Come on, I know a place.”

The place he knew was a little-used service corridor a few minutes’ walk away. Eli keyed it open with his passcode and waved Gimm though, turning to close the door behind him.

When he turned back, Gimm was leaning insouciantly against the opposite wall, his hand cupped around his stiffening cock through his trousers. “You going to take care of this, Ensign?” he asked. “Oh, I forgot. Lieutenant Commander.”

Eli crossed the hallway in two steps, shoved Gimm into the wall, and set his teeth to Gimm’s neck. Damn, but the hot skin felt amazing under his mouth, and the shocked little gasp Gimm made into his ear felt even better. It was like the first sip of brandy all over again. “That’s not how this is going to go,” he said once Gimm’s neck was red and bitten. His hands had wandered down to Gimm’s ass while his mouth was busy, and he groped and kneaded the muscle there appreciatively. Honestly, gods bless starfighter pilots and their collective obsession with the weight room.

“Fuck you,” Gimm said. He bucked his hips forward and ground his cock against Eli’s, trying to push them away from the wall, but Eli had leverage and kept him in place without much effort. In fairness, Gimm didn’t seem to be trying too hard. Good.

“Fuck you, what?” Eli said, and ducked his head to steal a kiss.

Gimm tore his mouth away. “You can’t be serious. _Fuck you_ , Lieutenant Commander Vanto, _sir_ ,” he said. His pupils were huge, though, and he was panting like a sprinter. Yeah, Eli had read him right.

“Very good, Lieutenant,” Eli said, and while Gimm was still drawing a furious breath Eli hooked a foot around Gimm’s leg, pulled him off balance, and drove him to his knees.

“What the fuck, sir?” Gimm exclaimed, seeming not to notice the honorific slipping out. He stayed on his knees; Eli had a hand on his shoulder, but he hardly needed it.

With his other hand, Eli gestured to where his now-fully-hard cock was straining his uniform trousers. “You going to take care of this, Lieutenant?” he asked, just to be extra annoying, and was rewarded with another flash of anger from Gimm. Gods, he was just too easy to wind up. It probably wasn’t very professional of Eli, but this whole evening had bypassed professional as soon as Gimm had picked up Eli’s glass. Besides, the sight of Gimm on his knees, hair mussed and neck bruised, mouth set in a furious line but eyes flicking greedily between Eli’s face and his crotch, was setting Eli’s heart racing without his cock even being touched.

Gimm seemed ready to remedy that situation. He grabbed Eli’s hip and pulled him closer with one hand, and with the other deftly unfastened Eli’s trousers and pulled out his cock. Gimm paused then, glancing up at Eli with an unreadable expression, and Eli had half a second to wonder if something was seriously wrong before Gimm leaned forward and swallowed him down.

Eli’s knees almost buckled at the shock of that sudden wet heat, and he reached out blindly to brace himself on the wall, canting his hips forward to push further into Gimm’s mouth. By the way Gimm’s eyes drifted closed and his hands tightened on Eli’s hips, getting his face fucked didn’t bother him at all. A trail of saliva dripped down Gimm’s chin as his mouth and throat worked desperately, and Eli took a harsh breath that echoed loud in the empty corridor.

“Good,” he found himself saying, “good work, Lieutenant,” and grinned as Gimm pulled back momentarily to make an irritated face. Honestly, riling Gimm up was almost as much fun as the actual sex. “That’s right, c’mon, get it wet.” He didn’t want this to end too soon, though, so he tugged Gimm off his cock and to his feet with a hand in his hair.

“Second thoughts?” Gimm rasped, his lips glistening with spit and precome.

“Shut up,” Eli said. He kissed Gimm again and got his lip bitten almost immediately for his trouble. The pain was sweet, though, as was the push of their bodies against each other, as was the frustrated grunt Gimm made as he tried to hold Eli’s arms against his sides and Eli squirmed out of his grasp.

Gimm went loose and slack once Eli got his trousers pushed down and his cock out, copiously leaking and hard enough it had to hurt. Eli gave it a few experimental strokes, spreading the liquid around and listening to Gimm’s gradually speeding breaths, and turned a few ideas over in his head.

“Turn around,” he said once he’d made up his mind. “Hands on the wall.”

Gimm obeyed without appearing to think about it, then stiffened as his brain caught up. “Don’t you dare—” he said, but didn’t move his hands.

“Relax, I’m not gonna,” Eli said, crowding up behind him. He worked his hand, still wet with Gimm’s precome, over his own cock, then slid between Gimm’s thighs where they were pressed together.

Stars, that was good, the friction just the right side of too much, the way Gimm took his weight where Eli leaned against his back and moaned when Eli’s cock rubbed against the sweet spot behind his balls. He began fucking Gimm in earnest, driving him into the wall with every thrust, until Gimm’s whimpers began to take on a decidedly theatrical quality.

“All right. Touch yourself,” Eli said, and Gimm immediately grabbed at his cock and gasped with relief. “Stars, you wanted that, didn’t you?” Eli murmured into Gimm’s ear, making sure to drawl the words. He wrapped an arm around Gimm’s chest and felt his heart thundering close to the skin. “Is this what you got up to at Skystrike?”

“Go to hell. _Sir_ ,” Gimm added before Eli could demand it. “Is this how Thrawn fucks you? Or does he like you on your knees under his desk?”

His words were a jolt. Eli thought of Thrawn, imagined him rounding the corner and coming upon them rutting against the wall, sweaty and gasping with clothes pushed hastily out of the way, imagined the faint look of surprise and, yes, _interest_ that might cross Thrawn’s face as he watched them, and as Eli came it was Thrawn’s strong lean body he imagined writhing under his own.

He had just enough presence of mind to get his hand on Gimm’s cock, but he hardly needed to: a few last strokes and Gimm came as well, his throat working as he swallowed a cry.

Eli stepped back and did up his trousers carefully, feeling relieved that his hands were mostly clean of spunk—he really hadn’t thought this location through as well as he might have. Gimm wasn’t so lucky: between Eil’s come and his own, he was a mess, and he struggled to get his uniform back into place without leaving any giveaway smears. Eli considered offering to help, but decided it probably wouldn’t be welcomed. When Gimm finally turned, he looked obviously fucked: hair and uniform mussed, bite marks on his neck, semen drying on his hand where he’d caught it. Eli probably didn’t look much better.

They stared at each other, uncomfortable. “There’s a freight lift at the end of the corridor,” Eli finally said. “Quarters are three levels up from here. You should be able to get there without anyone seeing you.”

“Right," Gimm said. He seemed a little dazed, but his typical cocky look was returning fast. “I better not have to—”

“Never,” Eli said quickly.

“Good,” Gimm said. “Well, enjoy the _Chimaera_ , Lieutenant Commander. I don’t expect I’ll hear much of you in the future.”

Eli opened his mouth to retort, but realized there was nothing he wanted to say. Let Gimm have the last word; Eli had something better. Gimm paused, like he was waiting for a barb, then shrugged and headed off down the corridor.

Eli waited until Gimm’s footsteps faded, and then a while after that, before beginning the walk back to his own quarters. In a few hours he and Thrawn would leave for the _Chimaera_ , and then this whole ill-advised interlude would be behind him.

Thrawn will still be there, a small, unwelcome voice whispered in the back of his mind. And you know who it is you really want.

Yeah, Eli knew who he wanted, just like he knew there was nothing he would be able to do about it.

* * *

 

Eli sighs, dropping his head to Thrawn’s shoulder. “And that’s how it went,” he says. “Obviously that was the only time.” Telling the story has left him feeling a little odd: a mixture of anxiety over what Thrawn will think, and relief at having his indiscretion finally out in the open. He’s been mulling this over for longer than he’d realized.

“Lieutenant Gimm was reassigned to the _ISD Vigilance_ not long after our taking command of the _Chimaera_ , and has served admirably as their TIE squadron’s senior lieutenant. He has not, however, achieved further promotion,” Thrawn says. “Given your relative locations in Imperial space, it’s quite unlikely your paths had crossed again.” His tone is neutral: Eli searches his face for hints of disapproval, of judgment, but finds none. And he hasn’t stopped stroking Eli’s back and sides, which he’d begun while Eli was telling his story. Things are probably all right.

“You’ve been keeping tabs on Gimm?” Eli asks. He’s unsure how to feel about this revelation: rationally, it’s just like Thrawn to follow the careers of people who have been useful and might be so again. Knowing it intellectually is different from confronting it in real life, he’s finding.

“ _Keeping_ _tabs_?” Thrawn asks.

“Oh—following, paying attention to something. I would have thought you’d know that one.”

“I see. And no, I did not. I’ve _kept tabs_ —is that correct?—on Gimm for the reasons you’ve guessed—” and how Thrawn knew what Eli had guessed while simultaneously claiming not to be omniscient, Eli did not know “—because I may well have use for a skilled pilot in the future. He is well-suited to his current position.”

“And it pleases you to know you put him there?”

“It appears that putting Lieutenant Gimm in his place is something that pleases us both,” Thrawn says, and Eli stares at him in astonishment.

“Admiral Thrawn,” Eli finally says, pushing up on his elbows so he can look Thrawn in the face. There’s something playing around the edges of Thrawn’s mouth that might be a smile. Eli cannot believe this. “I can’t believe you, “ he says, accent broadening with incredulity, and yeah, that’s a smirk now, the bastard. “I’m leaving. I don’t have to listen to this.”

He moves to get out of bed and Thrawn yanks him back down, sealing their mouths together in a possessive kiss. Thrawn is aggressive, dragging Eli down and holding him in place with firm hands on his shoulders, but Eli gives as good as he gets, and when the kiss breaks Thrawn is panting and twitching underneath him. They’re both breathing hard, and Thrawn wraps a leg around Eli’s waist to grind their hips together. Eli’s cock, already half-hard from telling his story, is now taking a much more active interest in the proceedings. Thrawn, on the other hand, is still soft; the same quirk of Chiss biology that makes him so tactile after sex also gives him a comparatively long refractory period—something Eli doesn’t mind a bit. Eli bites and licks at Thrawn’s collarbone, rubs slow circles around a nipple with his thumb, until Thrawn is sighing with pleasure: just because he won’t be able to come for another six hours doesn’t mean Eli can’t make him feel good.

“You thought of me,” Thrawn murmurs. “There, in the corridor, fucking another man, you wanted me. You were mine even then.” It’s not a question, more a statement of something he already knew.

“Of course,” Eli says, another statement, and Thrawn smiles. Not one of his small, satisfied, smiles at a plan well-executed, or the looks he sometimes gives Eli in public that are only smiles because Eli knows they are, but a full, fond smile. It’s better than brandy, better than anything.

“To return to our previous conversation,” Thrawn says, because he enjoys making Eli suffer, “Gimm’s position is ideal where it is. He may rise to command a TIE squadron, may even rise higher in the chain of command, but he has essentially achieved his potential. You, on the other hand…” He strokes down Eli’s sides, runs a finger up Eli’s spine and into his hair. “You are still growing, still learning. I do not know where your path will take you, or where your final place will be.”

Here, Eli doesn’t say, my place is here, by your side and in your bed, because hearing Thrawn talk about Eli’s final place like it wasn’t either of those things was ripping a hole in his chest.

“Sounds like you’ve given this a lot of thought,” Eli finally says. He knows that what he and Thrawn have is more than just mutual utility, but it’s hard to convince himself when Thrawn is talking so unemotionally of their possible future separation.

Thrawn looks up at him for a long moment, considering, and Eli feels a little like he’s being solved. Then Thrawn turns them so they’re lying on their sides, face to face, and sets his hand on Eli’s hip like a weight holding him to the bed.

“I think I have not been clear,” Thrawn says, “and I find that in this matter I want to make myself as clear as possible. Eli, you are worth ten of Gimm.”

Eli reaches out a hand to trace the prominent bones of Thrawn’s face, following their dips and ridges, and watches Thrawn’s eyes slip closed for the briefest moment. “To the Empire?” he asks.

“To the Empire, certainly,” Thrawn replies. “But just as importantly, to me.”

That’s as close as Thrawn will ever get to a declaration, Eli thinks, as long as their places are what they are. It doesn’t matter. This is where they are _now_.

“You’re worth ten of Gimm to me, too,” Eli says, and knows Thrawn will see beneath the obfuscating sarcasm and understand.

Thrawn stretches against him, then rolls onto his back. “I confess, I’d come to that conclusion myself,” he says.

Eli hits him with a pillow.


End file.
